Back when I was a child, Dad used to have the most stunning library in the whole city. It wasn’t nearly as big as this one is, but was stacked with an incredible amount of books. When I had turned five, I vowed to Dad that I would read every single book in his library. But of course… my promise couldn’t be kept.
“We have the prophecy here,” a beautiful voice murmurs near my ear, and I straighten slightly.
“Where is it?” I question.
“Right this way,” he leads me into the aisles, skimming over each book like a searchlight. It is endless, the rows of books, my feet growing tired as our trek continues. They don’t have the prophecy in a better place other than these aisles? From what I have heard, they seem to esteem it very highly.
When he finally stops, I pause too over a particularly thick book labeled Werewolves, Spiers, and Shifters: Complete Edition. On the front is a picture of a menacing werewolf poised over devouring a human and a human battling a truly horrible looking Shifter with a strange looking spear. I slip it from the rest, hiding it behind me.
“It’s okay, we don’t mind if you read it,” he says, expressionless, without looking up from his task. He seems to be examining the spines of each book, looking for a certain title that belongs to the book he needs. I cross over to his side, noting now the true similarities between Ray and Xavier; their nearly identical looks except for the scar and the hair. All this time he hasn’t acted like a sourpuss, which is a plus, and also a side of him that is pleasantly new to me.
He smiles as he extracts the book we need, a dusty one that isn’t thick at all. The side reads Summer Kitchen: 100 Delicious Recipes and the cover is completely blank. I narrow my eyes at the slim cookbook, wondering if this is a joke.
“Trying to find some recipes?” I ask, crossing my arms. We aren’t getting any closer to finding the prophecy this way, and although it looks useful, it isn’t anything like what we really need.
His grin grows wider as he rubs his hand on the spine once, twice…
“What are you doing?” I ask, my anticipation subconsciously spiking as he does it again and again. He doesn’t answer me, taking his strong hands and rubbing it endlessly. After I know he isn’t going to answer me, I quiet down and just watch the slow, rhythmic movement, hoping for the best.
When he reaches the twentieth rub, he suddenly stops, and without looking at it, hands it to me. I take it, raising it to my gaze, and gasp as the spine now reads The Prophecy and the cover is adorned with a single green emerald.
Spellbound, I open to the first page, but it is empty. The second page is blank too, and as I leaf through the rest of the book, I find it is blank as well. I look to Ray, who smiles knowingly.
“Look closely,” he commands, his words strong as steel. I oblige him, glancing at the first page deeply. To my surprise, when I stare at it hard enough, words begin to appear, as if writing itself on the page.
“There will come a person equal to a werewolf and a Spier, who also possesses an ability like no other, leading a complete pack, bound together by loyalty and friendship. They will defeat the red-eyed wolf, not without losing one of their own on the journey, and another will come to take his place. Through discord and strife they will travel, friendships and relationships forgotten, but they will succeed, destroying the red stone and vanquishing Shifters once and for all. Then the werewolves will vanish into the mist, their purpose served, for one cannot exist without the other.”
“Is that all?” I ask, staring at the paragraph of cr@ziness with disappointment, “I was hoping it would talk about a Spier being able to heal the people possessed by Shifters.”
“This is the reason why we exist,” Ray says softly, “we live for a purpose, and once that is completed, we die… and all you’re saying is is that all? Seriously, Mona.”
“I’m sorry Ray… I’m just a little disappointed that my question wasn’t answered,” I stare at the paragraph over and over, hoping for anything, but nothing is found. This has absolutely nothing to do with me.
“You know…” Ray lingers over my shoulder, and I get a whiff of his sweet-smelling cologne. “There have been very few cases of Spiers getting that ability. However, they profess it to be a very limited power, only able to use maybe once in a hundred years. I guess that time means nothing to them though, being immortal,” he notes slyly.
“Immortal?!” I exclaim.
“If you survive, of course,” he says darkly. We pause, suspended in silence. Being immortal… would that be a good thing? “You would be able to live with Xavier forever as a human instead of being converted to a werewolf,” he adds softly, “which means that you can have children. Crossbreeds, of course, but still…”
“Children? Oh no, we won’t…”
“That’s what you think,” he smiles evilly, plopping down in one of the chairs. I carry the book with me, sitting in the one opposite him.
“Why can’t two werewolves have children?” I wonder.
“Because our population would grow too large, obviously. We are all immortal, so every conversion must be approved by the council. Crossbreeds, however, are more loosely monitored because they are not immortal, with an average lifespan of around two hundred years,” he lazily kicks his feet onto the coffee table.
“Why did you show me the prophecy?” I finally ask, looking clearly into his eyes, “why are you telling me all this?” Xavier would never tell me what he is saying now.
“Because you asked,” he smiles, “and even though curiosity kills the cat, it is better to let the cat know instead of keeping it wondering forever.”
We sit in silence, I watching the huge computer screen, Ray absorbed in reading.
“I want to become one,” I finally think aloud, Ray’s head snapping up from the magazine, “a Spier… but Xavier doesn’t want me to.”
“It’s not exactly Xavier’s choice, don’t you think?” he scoffs, looking at the chandelier above us. A pause ensues, tension stretched between us, and then he speaks again. “We can do it tonight. Xavier and the others are going to be at Moonlight, and the full moon is coming out today.”
“You sure got it planned out, don’t you?” I narrow my eyes, and he grins.
“I knew, from the moment I set eyes on you, that you would want to help,” he shrugs, “and I prepared accordingly.”
I think about the pitiful boy locked up in the bedroom right now, his soul swallowed by the Shifter. My father, how he looked before he drove us to death. The men on the mural, with eyes like fire. I can’t just stay here and pretend like I can’t do anything. I have to at least try.
And if I die trying, so be it. I don’t have too much to live for anyway.
“I will,” my voice, barely above a whisper, emits. Ray grins, and stretches out one handsome hand. I feel, suddenly, as if I am making a pact with the dev!l.
A thunderclap rings through the air as my hand grasps his, rain slipping down the windows, then falling to its death.
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